the nights & the days
by temporarystatus
Summary: Some days were not as good as others but the daytime was still better than the night. The light still shined bright. At night, her nightmares had no place to hide, no light to shine down on it, ultimately making it flee. Nights were by far the worst. / / The Fosters; slight Callie/Brandon


**Not much to say except that it's only been four days since the show premiered and I'm already addicted. Ugh, I already want fanfiction and when I didn't see any, I scrapped this thing up in an hour and a half. Honestly, these characters will probably seem "out-of-character" later on in the series but remember that I wrote this being only one episode in.**

**Anyway, I am so pumped.**

**Warning: Implications of/Slight Callie & Brandon. They're already so adorable, enough said.**

**HUGE thank you and shout out to Sam, **_bookworm3_** here on FanFiction. Not only did she beta this for me, being the wonderful person she is, but she also came up with the title. YAY! So go check out her stories.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

She felt every blow hit her, felt it rattle her down all the way to her soul. The four girls that jumped her were relentless. Every pound of their fist, every kick of their foot felt ten times harder than they actually were. Her mind flickered to the time before she got sent to juvie. She imagined the girls as multiples of her foster father and mentally repeated the insults he would throw her way nearly every night.

Her body wouldn't respond to her wish and wouldn't fight back. It was instinct, it seemed, to cower back and allow the blows to take place. Having learned long ago, fighting back only brought her trouble.

The knuckles that knocked against her skull helped to numb the pain. She knew what was coming and didn't fight it. Her eyelids were already dropping and the guard wasn't much help against the hits as he was one against four. Distinct echoes of the heated fight sounded distant in her clogged ears. She felt the throbbing in her cheek start to disappear, as well as her vision. Lying still on the ground, she let the familiarity of unconsciousness take over.

* * *

Hugging her brother to her chest, heart pounding in her ears, Callie thanked every single higher being that she could imagine. The gun was out, something she saw on only two other occasions, and was directed. For the first time, it wasn't just at her.

Her brother cried a little, something that was, unfortunately, a common thing and Callie reassured him that everything was going to be okay, and that they were safe now. This time she knew it was true, even if it would be just for a small time.

* * *

"The basement should be done in a few days, so until then… Callie, you'll stay on the couch and Jude can say with Jesus." Lena smiled at the two siblings, who in return simply nodded. Callie's eyes were wide and her smile, though smaller than her brothers', meant just as much to the dark skinned woman.

Jesus appeared in the archway, smiling at the younger boy who looked up at him with wonder. The only male figure in Jude's life was his foster father and being suddenly surrounded by two genuine, admirable males, was a complete change and was given a warm welcome in his mind.

"Hey little man, wanna join me?" Jesus asked as he flopped onto the couch and picked up a game controller. The small boy looked up to his sister, not asking for permission but to see if she would be okay with him being busy. Quickly understanding this, Callie bent down and kissed his forehead before urging the boy to the couch.

"I'm going to fix up dinner," Lena said, giving Callie one last smile before retreating to the kitchen. Callie slowly made her way upstairs, glancing back at the two boys on the couch with a small smile during the journey.

Her head peaked around the doorframe slightly, looking into Brandon's bedroom to see that the dark haired boy was playing his piano. It was another original, she assumed, and sounded a bit like the piece he played at school her first day. He sat there, focused on the notes, safe and unharmed.

Callie jumped out of her thoughts, her movements silent, as she noticed Mariana leaving her room. She tried to seem nonchalant, as if she were just examining the family photos on the walls.

"Don't worry, I won't narc on you for spying," Mariana said teasingly with a small smirk, nudging the newer girl gently as she passed. Callie gave a small smile to the disappearing figure, leaning her head against the wall in sudden thought.

The daytimes were good. She felt fine and safe. The Fosters had welcomed herself and her brother into their home immediately, already making plans on finishing the basement for the two of them to use. In the daytimes, she felt herself want to be happy.

But the daytime only lasted for so long.

* * *

Callie was not a stupid girl. She knew that Talya, no matter how nice she tried to be, did not like her and felt threatened by her sudden appearance.

She also didn't miss the way that Brandon had checked her over at the dinner table her first night, seemingly pleased with the fresh meat in the Foster family (for the time being, at least).

But with all due respect, Callie's sudden protectiveness over Brandon for the two weeks that she's been in the Foster home came from a good point. So what, she hovered like a concerned parent when he was in public places and worried about his safety constantly, much like she did with her younger brother, but her intentions were pure.

Talya didn't like the protective side of Callie, much preferring the "without-a-care, leave-me-alone" attitude the girl had possessed her first day. It became the ginger haired girl's duty to keep her boyfriend away from the new girl and to keep her overbearing presence far out of reach. The girl was nice, yes, but became too much in a short time.

* * *

Callie crossed her arms as she sat at a lunch table in the open area, admiring the way the waves crashed against the shoreline. Her sleep was minimal, though more than she had in a long while, the cuts and bruises on her face healed, and her figure healthier. Though, her heart felt heavier with each passing day and her sleep seemed to minimalize minute by minute each night. _Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. _Her mental clock counted down the days, a silent reminder that her time of peace and freedom was coming to an end. Her brother would be safe, she knew that, but she wasn't completely sure about herself.

Some days were not as good as others but the daytime was still better than the night. The light still shined bright.

* * *

Her breath was ragged, her lungs causing her to gasp as it desperately tried to regain its oxygen supply. The sweat soaked t-shirt stuck to her skin as she sat up in bed.

Three and a half weeks with the Fosters.

The basement finished in no time and Callie found herself living there with her younger brother. Her sense of security and reassurance increased for the first week but depleted as the news of her foster father's release date was announced.

Thirty days was nothing for the hell he put them all through.

His good behavior act and plea deal was complete and utter bullshit.

Her feet emerged from under the blanket and touched the carpeted floor. Peeling off her sticky shirt and quickly replacing it, her dark chocolate eyes scanned the room for the second bed. A sigh of relief and a small, amused chuckle left Callie's throat at the sight of her brother, laying in a combination of positions with random limbs poking out from under the blanket. She moved her attention back to the basement stairs and crept her way up into the kitchen before moving to the second floor.

The task of perfecting her movements to be completely silent as she moved through the dark took years of practice (and punishment). Her hand gripped the doorknob and ever so slowly turned it, pushing lightly on the wood. Callie's eyes peered through the crack of the open door into the room, sighing in relief as she saw Brandon in a deep sleep. But her heart clenched at the sight of his bare upper body holding an also bare Talya close to him. She could make out the tangled lower limbs under the blanket and suddenly felt sick to her stomach. Closing the door, Callie made her way back to bed unnoticed.

Pulling the covers over her body, she released a deep breath.

Nights were the hardest. Her worst nightmares and biggest fears came alive and she wasn't able to stop them. 'Exhibit A, my shirt,' she thought to herself, glancing quickly at the rumpled article of clothing beside her bed.

She has had that nightmare every night following the incident. Her foster father stood in their house, gun pointed to Brandon. He was truly the innocent bystander in all of this, only coming to help Callie out. Damn it, he ditched his music competition just to help her out. No way did he deserve to die like this.

"Hey!" her dream self would yell, trying to get the attention away from Brandon. She spent her life deflecting pain from Jude and bearing it on her shoulders, so what is one more night going to do?

"Shut UP!" he said. In her dream, her foster father gripped her forearms once more and raised his gun.

"I said don't touch her!" she would hear Brandon yell, repeating his sentence from earlier. She would watch, frozen in horror and shock as he threw his backpack down against the wall and charged at her foster dad, jumping on his back. But before he could jump, a gunshot rang out.

Brandon's wounds would be too much and he'd be struggling for a breath before giving in completely.

It was all her fault he got involved.

At night, her nightmares had no place to hide, no light to shine down on it, ultimately making it flee.

Nights were by far the worst.

* * *

Two days after, the news spread that Brandon had broken things off with Talya. He was single and keeping his eye on the one person he couldn't have.

To say Talya was upset was an understatement but she still knew that the breakup was brewing. She knew the way Brandon got when it came to Callie, almost as if she were a healing puppy.

The rumors began swirling immediately and Callie was swamped. The high schoolers secretly labeled her as a whore and a home-wrecker even though she never even touched Brandon, never kissed him, never once sent a flirty action or word in his direction. But her protectiveness was enough to fuel the fire.

None of them were there that night. None of them knew how it felt to watch someone they barely know put everything on the line for them.

It was three days after that when Callie got fed up with the typical high school drama and left campus following Mr. Timothy's class. It took three stops on the metro bus before she got fed up once more and hopped off. Car rides and bus trips used to calm her nerves but her mind was still reeling. Walking down the sidewalk, Callie got a chill reaching through her entire body. With a slight groan, she moved to turn around to head back the way she came when she couldn't.

A body blocked her path and arms quickly finding their ways around her stomach and neck, an all too familiar position. The cool blade of a pocket knife danced dangerously close to her throat and she feared that even swallowing would cause the knife to cut her skin.

"Clever little stunt you pulled, huh, bitch?" a sneering voice whispered in her ear. Callie's body went rigid.

Thirty days definitely wasn't enough.

* * *

Four police cars, two ambulances, and the entire Foster family, as well as her younger brother, arrived at the scene. Her face adorned bruises and cuts, much like when the Foster family first saw her, and the blonde haired cop gently patted her cheek.

"You are brave, Callie. You are strong." The words reminded her of the same ones she said the night of the first incident with her foster father.

A small bandage was taped to the side of her neck and every now and then, as she sat on the edge of the ambulance while EMTs continued to check her out, she reached a hand up to touch it. Before she could do it for a sixth time, a hand grasped hers. In shock, Callie slowly turned her head towards the person, her eyes widening as Brandon stood before her.

"We're all together," he said simply, and Callie was reminded of his new piano piece. The story had been elaborated onto the original and two new notes completed the sound.

* * *

Her bed felt rough and uncomfortable that night. Jude was spending the night in Jesus' room, Ana feeling that Callie would need a lot of rest. But she has done anything but rest. Her eyes were wide and alert, her heart still racing.

The couch felt better on her body and gave her a new sense of comfort. It brought her back to when she first arrived.

"Can't sleep either?" Brandon's sleepless, rough voice said the archway.

"No, I wanted to become an insomniac on purpose, see how it'd feel."

Brandon gave a small laugh at Callie's sarcasm, the tiniest of smiles breaking onto her face. He motioned for her to move over on the couch and allowed him some room. Stretching his body from one end to the other, laying behind Callie's sitting form, Brandon gently tugged on her arm.

"What?" she asked, her swollen lip impairing her speaking skills.

"Lay down. Relax."

Hesitantly, Callie obliged and laid on the wide couch, her back pressed against Brandon's chest. He gently wrapped an arm around her body, pulling her flush against him.

"I will always try to protect you and make things better. I'm so sorry I wasn't there today," he whispered in her ear.

Callie stared at the black TV screen before her, taking in his words. Never before has she been held so closely, so tightly, so caringly. Never has she felt content and safe and protected all at once, especially due to one person.

Her eyes slowly drooped closed, relaxing her form into Brandon's and falling into the first peaceful sleep in she didn't know how long.

* * *

The nights were still hard, some worse than before. But most had gotten better. The moon and stars became her beacon in the night sky, the light shining through the dark.

Slowly, but surely, her nights were becoming almost as good as her days.

* * *

_**fin.**_


End file.
